


The Music of Laughter

by claudia603



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claudia603/pseuds/claudia603
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam feels joy upon discovering that Frodo has survived the quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Music of Laughter

Sam held his face in his hands, surprised by how easily the tears came. The commotion in the next room had drawn him to his feet, but it was the music of Frodo’s laugh that wrenched his heart in the best possible way.

Frodo had awakened at last, he had pulled through, and nothing else mattered. Earlier that morning, Aragorn had tried to convince Sam that Frodo, though he had slipped dangerously close to death, had in fact survived. No matter how gentle Aragorn’s words or how encouraging his smile, Sam’s heart had still ached, and his chest had felt hollow. Frodo had certainly felt the same ache, separated from the Ring in the dark days locked in the tower with nothing but Orcs and whips. But Frodo had survived, and it was more than Sam had expected when at the end of all things, just before losing consciousness, he had watched Frodo in the grip of the eagle’s talons. Frodo had gazed upward with weak serenity before his eyes had fallen closed with finality.

Sam’s dreams had been filled with Frodo, but they had not been pleasant. Sam’s lungs had been choked with the fumes of Mordor, and the poison had clogged his mind. In the dreams, Frodo was alive, but he could no longer speak. He smiled often, but his smiles were sad, his glance kind and knowing, as if he knew some great and tragic secret. When Sam touched him, his skin felt cold and damp, and he reeked of salty sea air. He seemed ever to be glancing beyond Sam, his haunted eyes reflecting great peace that could only be found elsewhere. Sam struggled to capture this rainbow and hold it to his heart for a few short moments before it faded.

But now Frodo’s laughter sounded natural and of this world.

“Nothing to it, Samwise Gamgee, but to see for yourself.”

But Sam’s legs buckled, and he collapsed so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed. He could not let Frodo see him weep with such abandon because Frodo would think that he was sad, and it would cut short his dear laughter. The tears that bubbled and flowed down Sam’s cheeks released the wounds on his heart that he had kept tucked deep inside. Each time the Ring had twisted Frodo into something unkind, each time Frodo had been grievously wounded, each blow by Gollum, each time the Eye had struck him down, each pathetic crawl up the mountain -- all had hit Sam’s heart with equal vigor.

Such a simple and natural thing as Frodo’s laughter had the power to set free those hurts at last.

Together they had faced the end, lying side by side on that jutting rock, lava hissing and gurgling around them. Blood had streamed from Frodo’s wounded hand, dripping and merging into the cumbrous lava flow.

“He won’t make it, see how his breath labors,” Sam had thought, and wild panic had stuttered his heart.

Sam wiped his eyes. He heard Merry and Pippin’s voices rising high in laughter. They interrupted each other, chattering to Frodo about walking trees and a vengeful forest and the expression on Saruman’s face when the floods had besieged Isengard.

“Sam.” Sam looked up, startled, to see Aragorn in the doorway, a wide smile on his face. “He is awake.”

Sam nodded, and the weight in his chest broke apart and shattered, lifting his heart. He took in a deep breath.

“Nothing to it, Samwise Gamgee,” he said as he climbed to his feet. “Nothing to it.”

Sam peered around the door. Frodo did not notice him, as Pippin had just flung himself against him in another furious hug, and Frodo was commenting on just how large his Tookish cousin had grown.

But then Frodo looked to the doorway, and everything in the room paled to include only Frodo’s eyes as they fell on him. They were clear, full of peace. They spoke of paths endured that nobody else in the room could ever imagine.

His skin was so pale, so translucent, almost as though a pale light shimmered beneath the surface. Barely here it seemed, Sam thought, and his stomach sank slightly. But he was grateful that he smelled neither the salty sea nor did he see haunted eyes that looked beyond.

END


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